Dark Blood
by Prophet of Set
Summary: Inwich Harry discovers his origins, get vengance, and becomes...DARK!HARRY, bum bum bum!
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I make no profit from this, nor do I own it. If you are looking to buy Harry Potter contact J.K. Rowling, not me.

The Moonlight filtered through the glass, casting shadows across the room and it sparkled off the glasses of the room's young occupant. The occupant was named Harry Potter, and the inky blackness of the night suited his mood of late perfectly. His godfather had died only weeks ago, and Harry was taking it hard. Undoubtedly, he would have already snapped if not for the book.

The book was titled, simply, _The Dark Arts_,and it had already been of great help. For the first time, he actually understood a book. Before, he had pawed through books but had only understood after his friend Hermione had interpreted. But this book he understood.

It had a plain cover, leather and old, but it seemed to reek of power. It was, as the title stated, about the Dark Arts, but not only that—it actually told how to perform the curses and spells, rather than just how to protect oneself against them. And it told, explaining in amazing depth, what the Dark Arts were comprised of, how the Dark Arts were classified, and how they were discovered. And, sensibly enough, most of the Dark Arts could not be considered Dark Arts if anyone had sense enough to use them for practical purposes (pest control, mercy killing, etc.).

Harry had been fascinated by the Dark Arts ever since he had entered the Wizarding world…though at eleven years of age, it was an innocent fascination that any young Wizard might have. Until it grew into something more. The book had come from the school library, where he had picked it up thinking that it was a defense book that would help in his quest to become an Auror. But in the end, he realized that it was a book for practitioners, and his dream of becoming an Auror had gradually dissipated, leaving behind a different dream, a more powerful dream. He, Harry Potter, would become a Dark Lord and his might would overshadow all those who came before him. He would have his vengeance—from the Old Man and from Tom. And in the end, the world would fear him and they would all bow.

In the darkness, the young man called Harry Potter smiled, and the moon flickered off.


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I want to because, if I did, I would have to be the one to come up with a sequel worthy of Order of the Phoenix. I make no money from this, etc, etc.

Harry was awoken by the sound of fluttering pages. He sat up in his chair, his back slightly sore from sleeping hunched over all night, and blinked into the sunlight. Sometime in the night, he had opened the window, probably to let Hedwig in, and had forgotten to close it—as was evidenced by the amount of paper strewn all over the floor. He absentmindedly reached for his wand to clean up the mess, but stopped short before giving his wand a wave. Trouble for underage magic was the last thing he needed right now. He might have aspirations toward the shadier sides of the law, but at the moment he didn't need the extra hassle.

He had bent over and was about to start cleaning up when he heard a large CRACK and an old, slightly squeaky voice saying,

"Master, let Kreacher do it."

Harry's wand was back in his hand and pointing straight at the withered house elf. "You!" The word was spoken with a burning rage that left the house elf quivering and fearing for his life. He shouted,

"Please sir, the mistress has told Kreacher to come to Master Harry to tell Master that he is the true Heir to the House of Black."

Harry looked at Kreacher suspiciously and said simply, "Explain."

And so Kreacher did. "Master," he began, "Mistress has told Kreacher that you are her true heir and she has told Kreacher to give myself to Master's punishment after I tell him of his family. But, please master, Kreacher didn't know! He didn't know!"

Harry tried to summon up compassion for the house elf, but he couldn't quite manage it. "Continue." The word was cold and seemed to calm Kreacher.

"Mistress tells Kreacher that Master is her Grandson."

"How?" Harry's impatient word bit and Kreacher cringed.

"Kreacher will tell." He visibly composed himself while still seeming to try to make himself small and continued, "Mistress explained it all to Kreacher; she said that because she was the scion of the Black family she needed an heir of her own body, preferably a boy because, she said, all her brothers and male cousins had died in duels or in birth. She needed to him to take and pass on her family name. So she went to Vanus, the Lord Grindelwald's son. My Mistress knew that Vanus was a powerful wizard and that he and his muggle wife, Violet, were trying to have a child, so my mistress offered to engage in a fertility rite with them. In return, any male child she bore as a result of the ceremony would be hers and any girl would be his. Vanus agreed and Mistress and Violet became pregnant. Mistress went back to her house, and Vanus went back on with his life taking care of his wife."

He paused to catch his breath but continued almost immediately upon noticing Harry still holding his wand and twirling it in his hand absentmindedly.

"During Mistress's sixth month of pregnancy, she married the younger Parkinson brother because he was willing to marry into Mistress's family and to officially acknowledge Mistress's son as his own. Three months later, Mistress gave birth to twin—a boy and a girl, Master Sirius and Master's mother—and Mistress gave Master's mother to Vanus and his wife to be raised alongside their daughter, Petunia. So you see, you are the heir of my Mistress and therefore the heir of the Noble and most Ancient House of Black."

Harry looked at the diminutive elf suspiciously and said, "Prove it."

Kreacher looked thoughtful for a minute, and then with a loud CRACK he was gone.

Harry sat back in his bed and waited. A minute later, with another loud CRACK, Kreacher was back, this time carrying books, which he set on the bed in front of Harry.

"Mistress told Kreacher to tell Master to turn to the back of this book," he said, pointing at the book on top of the pile. Harry grabbed the book, the title of which read, _The Noble house of Black, 'Toujours Pur.' _Harry recognized the last as the Black family motto: "Always Pure." He opened the book at the last page, and there, in the middle of the page, stood the name "Harry J.E. Black-Potter."

Harry looked at Kreacher and asked, "What does the 'E' stand for?"

"Mistress tells Kreacher that it stands for 'Evans,' sir."

Harry looked at him speculatively and asked, "How does my…ah…grandmother know so much about me?"

Kreacher, who looked very happy to be able to answer the questions put to him, replied, "After Master Sirius ran away, Mistress turned her attentions to her other children. She thought that Master Regulus was not a good choice as an heir, so she turned her attention to Master's Mother." He paused and seemed to search for what to say: "Mistress was pleased with Master's mother's choice in a mate."

"How is it possible that a portrait can know all these things?"

Kreacher looked taken aback that Harry would not know such a thing and said, "It is Mistresses Death Portrait. Master has one as well."

This was knew information. "I do? Where?"

"It's in Master Sirius's room."

"What is it?"

"It's a magic painting that is charmed to be blank until the day you die, at which point your face and memories will appear."

"How is it charmed?"

Kreacher looked scared and he said quickly, "Kreacher is not knowing how. Kreacher is a good elf; he knows not to do wizard Magic."

Harry nodded; he would just have to find out later, he thought. He got up from the bed and started to pace, thinking as he did.

He started to ask Kreacher questions "You're my house elf now?"

"Yes master."

"You have to do what I say?"

Again the answer was, "Yes master." Harry nodded absently and continued to pace, his brain quickly formulating a plan. He stopped and stood in front of Kreacher.

"When you betrayed Sirius, did you speak to just the Malfoys or did you speak to others as well?"

Kreacher replied, his voice frantic as he realized what path this conversation could take, "I spoke only to those of Black blood. I wouldn't speak to Mistress Narcissa's husband."

Harry nodded. "Good." He looked at the elf, and, surprisingly, he felt no fury. However, that didn't stop him from making his voice as cool as possible: "You are not to speak to anyone unless I give my permission. That includes family, guests—even other House elves—do you understand?" He waited for Kreacher's "Yes Master" and then continued: "You are not to mutter under your breath, and if you find yourself doing so you are to punish yourself."

He stopped speaking and began to pace once more. After a moment, he halted and turned to Kreacher: "Go undetected to the Hogwarts Kitchen and ask for the House elves Dobby and Winky to come and see me." He paused, looking at Kreacher, and then said impatiently, "Now."

Kreacher disappeared with a CRACK.

Harry turned to the small stack of books that Kreacher had brought. There were five books in all. The one just under the genealogy book was titled _The Laws of the Pureblood_;skimming through it, Harry found the title rather self-explanatory. The one below that was a very slim book titled _The Magical Gifts of the Black Family_,and looking through it Harry found that it too was self-explanatory, as it dealt with special gifts that certain members of the Black family had had. Each Black family member's name was in the book, and the specific gifts were ordered by the time of discovery. Harry went to his name on the last page and found one gift: _Parselmouth_. By it was written, _Revealed at 1:54 P.M., in the reptile wing of the Little Whinging Zoo_. Harry shook his head and closed the book. The next book was titled _Magical Dwellings in Europe_. The pages concerning the Potters and the Blacks were book marked. Harry set it aside and looked at the last book, which had no title and seemed older than all the rest. When Harry thumbed through it, all he could see were blank pages. Harry closed it and was about to set it aside when the cover gleamed silver and words appeared. He looked at the cover, squinting from the brightness. It read _Shadow Magic: The Summoning of Dark Servants_.

Opening the book again, Harry found words, but before he could look at it more closely there was a resounding **CRACK**. Suddenly there were three house elves in front of him. All three bowed and Dobby smiled happily at him. "Dobby is happy to see Harry Potter, Sir. Kreacher is saying that you wanted to see us." He looked at Harry expectantly

Harry stopped to consider for a minute, but then barreled ahead: "I have a proposition for you: do you want to work for me?"

Dobby stared at him in awed disbelief before bursting into tears. "Does Harry Potter really want Dobby to work for him?" he asked, his voice choked with tears.

Harry nodded, paused again, and then spoke. "I have to warn you, though, Dobby: how would you feel about working for me if I were a dark wizard?"

Dobby looked at him, confused, and then understanding lit in his eyes. He thought a moment and asked, "Would Dobby still be getting paid?"

Harry grinned. "If you want to get paid, I'll pay you."

Dobby nodded and said, "Dobby doesn't really want to get paid, but Dobby does want to serve Harry Potter, Sir, dark or no. And," he continued, "if Harry Potter wishes it, Dobby would also like for Harry Potter to be his master."

Harry looked at him and asked, "Are you sure?"

Dobby nodded. "Dobby will miss clothes, but he wishes to serve Harry Potter, so Dobby will happily give them up."

Harry considered and suddenly an idea struck him. "Dobby can you only be set free if your master _gives_ you clothes." Dobby nodded his affirmation, and Harry continued, "What if _you _buy clothes…or what if I have extra clothes in a pile with some other things I don't want, and I let you choose what you want out of the pile without actually giving them to you…or if you decide to go against my express orders and grab them out of the pile anyway, but I neglect to punish you and I command you before you take the clothes out of the pile not to punish yourself ever again?"

Dobby stared and tears welled up in his eyes again. "Harry Potter is a great wizard. Dobby had not even thought of that."

"So that would work?" Dobby nodded, wiping his nose on one of the many shirts that he wore. "And you'd still be mine?" Again Dobby nodded. Harry turned to Winky, who, for once, seemed sober.

"Do you want to be mine?" he asked.

Winky seemed to consider, and then she said, "So long as Winky doesn't have to wear clothes or get paid, Winky would happily serve Master Harry Potter as his house elf."

Harry nodded and said, "Good. Okay, this is what I want you guys to do. Dobby, Winky, resign from Hogwarts. Don't tell Dumbledore why or where you plan on going; just hand him your resignation and leave. Go to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place—_do not be seen_—and when everyone has gone to bed, introduce yourself to the portrait in the front Hall. Kreacher will help you with that." He turned to Kreacher.

"Are there any rooms that shouldn't be revealed to the guests or that have particular family importance?"

Kreacher nodded and said, "Yes master. The family room. But Master Sirius put all of the things that go in there in the attic."

"Take them back into the room, put them where they belong, and seal the room until my arrival. If there are any other rooms, do the same. Also I want the entire house cleaned and restored to how it looked at the height of glory, do you understand?"

Kreacher bowed so low that his snout touched the threadbare rug of Harry's room and said, "Yes Master." He looked at the other two elves gloatingly, and Harry was surprised when they looked slightly disappointed. Harry looked at them and asked, "What's the matter?"

Dobby looked down at his sock-clad feet and said, "Dobby and Winky hoped that Master Harry would have more work for them." Harry looked at Winky and saw her nod.

"Oh, well in that case, can house elves go to stores for their masters?"

Winky seemed to understand what he was asking and brightened. "Yes they do, Master Harry."

Harry nodded and asked, "Are they allowed to withdraw money from their owner's vaults?"

Dobby had by this time caught on, and he too brightened. "Yes master. Often times when a wizard is busy he'll send his house elf on errands."

Harry nodded and went to his desk; he had already composed a list of things he needed to buy, things that he had found listed in _The Dark _Arts, things including books, potions ingredients, potions, magical jewels, robes that were used specifically for certain rituals, and a few other things that the book said were helpful. Harry grabbed the list along with his vault key. Turning to Dobby, he said, "Instead of going straight to Grimmauld after you give Dumbledore your resignation, I want you and Winky to go to Gringotts, get enough gold to purchase these items, and then after you purchase the items on this list bring them here—just leave them on my bed if I'm not here. Then go to Grimmauld Place and assist Kreacher with the restoration."

Harry gave Dobby the key and list, all three of the House elves bowed low, and then with a **CRACK **they were gone.

A second later his aunt was pounding on his door. "WHAT IS GOING ON IN THIS ROOM? KEEP IT DOWN OR SO HELP ME, FREAKS OR NO, I'LL MAKE YOU SORRY."

Harry opened the door and smirked at his aunt. He pulled his wand out of the pocket he had stowed it in and idly examined the tip. Looking up over his glasses, he asked, "How?" His aunt seemed at a loss for words and just gaped. "I thought so. Would you please not pound on my door? I'd very much appreciate it." Then he closed his door and waited until he heard her steps on the stairs before laughing. He wiped his eyes and shook his head. What a way to wake up.


End file.
